


Graded On The Curve

by Born In Captivity- Ineligible to Release (Jashasedai)



Series: Alternate Universe - Tame Racing Drivers [17]
Category: Motorcycling - Fandom, motocross - Fandom, motogp - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe: Tame Racing Drivers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 21:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10862913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jashasedai/pseuds/Born%20In%20Captivity-%20Ineligible%20to%20Release
Summary: In an AU where a secret species is used as Racing Drivers, new matches have to learn to cope with their new reality.Maverick Vinales' career takes an unexpected turn- he finds out he is going to have to partner with a Racing Rider.





	1. Learning To Fly: Graded On The Curve

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the Tame Racing Driver AU, if you read the universe summary it will make more sense.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/series/518203

**Learning to Fly: Graded On The Curve**

  
From the edge of the property, where the cars entered the World Motorcycle Center grounds, there were several buildings visible. One, directly ahead, was the office, behind this the driveway split and to the right was a large multi-door garage, several of the garages at the end were extra height, like truck garages. There was a workshop to the left, and a huge three story building set back away from the others even further to the left of the office. The grounds were landscaped with groundcover and shrubs and some big expanses of low plants, not grass, but serving the same purpose.

There was an industrial hallway in the second story of the office building. It was a weird season, Maverick told himself. The team manager had seen that, hadn't he? His stomach knotted at the thought. He opened his gum box and looked inside. Only orange antacids left. He hated the orange ones. He frowned and popped two into his mouth, breaking them up against the roof of his mouth with his tongue as he chewed. That was the fastest way to get rid of the awful orange ones.

He practiced his speech silently. 'I understand. Yes, my performance this season hasn't been up to par. I know you're disappointed. I really don't have anything else. No, I'm not angry, I understand you have other riders who are on their way up. Thank you for this opportunity. Yes, you're welcome to buy out the rest of my contract.'

If Manual Olivier hadn't crashed, there was no way Maverick would have won this year. Poor guy. Maverick would have felt awful if one crash like that had given his championship to some inferior rider. Instead he was just the guy everyone whispered about, "He doesn't deserve it."

The team manager walked down the hallway and knocked on the door Maverick was sitting in front of. "Please come in, Maverick."

He walked in and was unsurprised to see the man who'd recruited him to the World Motorcycle Center's young rider program. Maverick mentally packed his bags.

"You know Kevin Windham?" His manager asked.

"Yes, I remember. Nice to see you again, Kevin." They shook hands.

Kevin was a motocross rider who worked part time for the WMC, he'd offered Maverick his contract with the program, gotten his spot on Hune. He was a burly guy with brown hair and grey eyes.

"Congratulations on your Championship, Maverick. Quite the accomplishment. Thank you," He addressed the last comment to Maverick's team manager, who nodded at Maverick and headed out the door. He'd just come to bring him in here?

"Thank you," He said, as the familiar presence departed.

"I'm here to talk about the next step in your career," Kevin told him.

He screwed up his courage and loaded his gracious responses.

"The WMC is activating the promotion clause in your contract. We're moving you up to Moto3 next year. Before you start declining, I want you to listen. We have noticed your performance plateauing. I don't you to worry about that, alright, Maverick?"

"Worry?" He asked.

"We've noticed you starting to get frustrated with your lack of progress in comparison to the other riders. I just want to reassure you, that's not why we're updating your contract. This is when this clause usually activates, when you're ready to start your professional career." He smiled.

Mavericks' stomach lurched. They thought he was frustrated because he wasn't getting ENOUGH of a challenge? He'd better say something now.

"Now I don't know how familiar you are with the terms of your contract, but I think this new phase, working with a partner will be easier for you. You are so good at interviews and the sponsorship events, and you seem to really like them, yeah?"

"Yeah, I feel like it's easy to explain what I'm doing on the track and try to make it fun for the fans to read, but it's the riding..." He started.

"Your new position will still include riding, demonstrations and tests and things like that. You won't be off a bike completely, but it will be a lot heavier on media work, now, and you'll still be attending all the races, without the pressure of having to perform."

What? What did that even mean? What was the point of racing if he wasn't expected to perform. Was...was he being paid to throw races?

"Now, about your partner," Kevin said, pulling a file out of a cupboard. He laid in on the desk in front of him, face down.

What partner? Maverick's hands tightened on the knees of his pants.

"We have a 6 month training program in place for you to learn to work with him." Kevin leaned forward, and started speaking as if he was reading from a script. "You may not know this, but professional Motorsport is not run like you think it is, like the public thinks it is. What I'm going to tell you right now is in the strictest confidence. Your contract already contains a non-disclosure agreement. If you mention this to anyone without clearance or anyone in the media, the FIA will prosecute you to the full extent of the law."

Kevin sighed. "They have lawyers, lots of them, entirely dedicated to making sure no one says anything, so, really, take me seriously." He leveled a look at Maverick that spoke of deep wounds with the dirt rubbed into them.

"Okay, well it's already in my contract, I guess I can't back out, now."

"Almost everyone in professional Motorsport has a partner. There is one person giving the interviews and leading the public life, and behind the cameras, there's someone else doing the actual racing. This only works because the two look very, very similar. From now on, you will be the one giving the interviews. Your partner will be doing the riding." Kevin stopped and Maverick didn't notice the depth of the trap.

"Why doesn't he do his own interviews, then?"

Kevin smoothed down the flat of the file folder, "Your partner won't be another boy, he will be a specially bred athlete, who looks like you, but isn't human. It's a separate species called a Racing Driver, well, ours are called Racing Riders."

Maverick's eyes narrowed. "You guys do a lot of drugs over there in America, don't you?"

Kevin made an apologetic face and handed him the file. It had a file code Maverick didn't understand, a set of letters and numbers, and (Maverick Vinales) on the tab. He opened it. It was a file about his performance since the day he'd started riding. Years ago, it had his stats for every race. Lap times, retirements, assessments from his coaches and team managers. He paged through to the next section. It was labelled with the word Rider. There was a picture of a boy who looked like Maverick, but had sort of heavier features and his eyes were green.

There was a blank line next to the word Name:

There was a date of birth, though, 29 December, 1993. His file went just like Maverick's, listing race stats, lap times, retirements, and assessments from people with titles like handler, Trainer, colt manager.

"He's just another kid," Maverick said. "He looks like me, but he's obviously human."

Kevin nodded. "Watch this." He turned the computer monitor around and hit play on a video that had been waiting.

It was the kid from the file, he was wearing dark green scrub-like clothes, standing against a wall painted like one in this building. He smiled at someone off camera.

"You like to race?" A voice asked.

The kid nodded and moved his hands in some kind of sign language.

"Tell me about your first race."

He started signing again, but chills went up Maverick's back when he heard the noises that went along with the signs. They were...not human. He hadn't for a moment believed this was possibly true, until then. 'This is a video, it could be special effects.' But though the noises sounded like engines, no engines could make those smooth, rising and falling, beyond the possible range and expression of any machine.

"Special effects." He said to Kevin when the kid had finished describing his race.

Kevin leaned forward. His eyes had never left Maverick while the video had been on. "You have been riding bikes too long to believe that, you don't believe that." He said it like he could see straight through Maverick's doubt and read his mind.

Maverick looked at him. "There's no reason for you to tell me this if it's not true."

The older rider shook his head. "I've seen some stuff."

That put him on the back foot. If everyone in motorsports had one of these, it meant Kevin had one. "So you just give interviews?"

He nodded. "It's more than just interviews, but, yeah, all those races, they're ridden by a guy called K-Dub. Just as handsome, but not a human. I also take care of the paperwork, help him train, take care of him, translate to the team for him. Some of them gesture, but not much. I do the demo rides, anything were the guy riding is going to be expected to whip off his helmet and talk to people."

"He can't talk?" The kid on the video had spoken with those machine noises and signed, if the team had to be translated for, they couldn't do their own interviews.

"Not in words. Just in gestures, body language. Some of them never shut up," He laughed.

"I have to be there if I'm going to answer interview questions, you said I'd be at all the races. Won't people notice me standing around watching myself race?"

"The team will have signed an agreement like yours. They'll know you're there to handle your Rider. The public won't, though, and the teams can't afford to have an extra person standing around uselessly in the garage. You'll have to learn a job. It will be something simple for now, but you'll be expected to learn a trade. This isn't F1, we don't have 30 people on our teams to lose track of you in. We'll also teach you ways to disguise yourself and adjust your body language so it isn't immediately apparent it's you, but you'll get used to wearing sunglasses and hats and fake facial hair constantly." Kevin rubbed his own goatee.

"Why is the gender listed as S?"

"Sharp eye. Racing riders aren't human, and the adult males aren't men, they are stallions."

"What will he be like?"

Kevin actually grinned. "He's funny. Tells jokes. Very friendly. A thinker, though. It's strange how much like their matches they are even before they ever meet."

"Matches?"

"The men they look like, that they match. It's just what we're called."

"I'm his match. I'm going to have a Racing Rider and I'm going to be his match."

Maverick looked at the desk, taking breaths and running his hand up and down his arm. He was already contracted to this. This wasn't asking permission, it was just orientation. Okay, he could deal with that.

Kevin let the silence expand.

"Okay. I guess I'll start training for the next part of my career."


	2. Fledglings: Competitors And Allies

**Fledglings: Competetors and Allies**

  
Maverick was in a classroom. There were a dozen desks, a whiteboard, and a bookshelf with binders labeled with acronyms. He was there with a couple other boys and a girl (Dakota Tedder, Brad Binder, Juan Francisco Guevara, Jack Miller, Maria Herrera) when the older man walked in. Maverick recognized him as the Japanese Superbike Champion. "I am Katsuyuki Nakasuga," He began, and that was all of his introduction, "Lesson one- the FIRST thing you need to know is," He held his thumb up, "Do NOT break eye contact. When you meet your Rider for the first time, this will be the absolute most important lesson you have learned in your life up to this point. Lesson Two-" He held his first finger up. "This will be the most important thing for the REST of your life. Racing Riders need to ride EVERY DAY."

The students looked at each other.

"Say it," He held his thumb up. "What's Lesson one?"

"Don't break eye contact," Jack mumbled. They all looked at him like he was the weakest link.

"Jack, YOU might have a chance to make it through this program and on to the next stage of your career." He scanned his eyes over the rest of them. "Brad, what's lesson one?"

Brad crossed his arms. "This isn't the army, man."

He stepped up to Brad and he was suddenly VERY intimidating. Maverick wanted to step away, and he wasn't even the one under that dark gaze. "Were you under the impression this is school, little boy? This is your career. You are on the job. This is NOT the behaviour we expect from an employee of the World Motorcycle Center. Now what's goddamn lesson one?"

"Don't break eye contact," Brad muttered, staring at Katsuyuki. "I know."

"With who?"

"What?"

"Don't break eye contact- WITH WHO?"

"My Rider?"

"Why?" Katsuyuki barked, looking around at the other boys to make sure they were watching.

"I don't know..." Brad stammered.

Katsuyuki turned around. He stared at Brad for awhile. Voice quiet, he growled, "Then don't say you do."

The words dropped into the silence like weights in a still pond.

He backed up, addressing the group again. "The REASON you must not break eye contact with your Racing Rider when you meet him, is that at that point, and no other, you will be able to form a bond with him. A bond that will make you the one person he will obey no matter what, for his benefit and yours. The F I A has invested a lot of money in his training and yours, and if you look away and make their investments useless, they will be VERY perturbed. Your Rider will be destroyed and you will be charged with destruction of property and fined for the projected value of his career. Since it is unlikely any of you HAS 10-20 million euros with which to pay that debt," He shrugged, "They'll take it in trade."

Maverick gulped. Right, lesson one, don't break eye contact.

"Now, rule two is equally important." He held his thumb and forefinger out. "Riders have to ride every day." He waved the forefinger at them.

They were all watching, rapt, now.

"When you were boys and asked your mama for a dog, she told you dogs are a lot of responsibility. They have to be fed, they have to be cared for, they have to be walked, they have to learn not to eat the neighbors toddlers. Come."  
  
He walked into the hallway, leaving them to follow him.

"These are NOT dogs, but they DO need to be fed, cared for, exercised and trained. You will be entirely responsible for making sure each of these things happens."

They walked down the corridor by which they'd come to the classroom, through the World Motorcycle Center, rode an elevator down two floors to a hallway with doors on either side.

"Your team can help you, and they will be the people you most rely on day in and day out. Ultimately, though, they are not the ones responsible for your Riders. If your Rider is lacking one of these essentials, they will not be answering to the WMC and FIA, you will."

They were metal doors, with burly locks. They had small windows at head height, each with a sliding blind on the outside. The door to the immediate right of the elevator was unlocked. He led them inside.

The room was about 10 feet wide by 12 feet long, counting the built in cupboards on the wall by the door and on the back wall. The cupboard doors were open, they were clean and empty. There was a door to the left of the door they'd come in by.

Katsuyuki let them look into the room to the left.

It was a tiny bathroom. A toilet, a sink in one corner with a small built-in medicine cabinet with a seal around the edge of the mirror. The reason for the seal was the entire bathroom functioned as the shower stall. The showerhead was built into the ceiling and the drain was built into the floor.

"This is a Rider's stall. The team stallions all live in stalls like this one," Katsuyuki said.

They looked around room. Maverick thought about the lock on the door. There was no window in this room. They were two stories underground. He felt very claustrophobic, suddenly.

"They live in here...all the time?" Jack asked.

"When your Rider is not pursuing other activities, he will be in his stall. There is a gymnasium, a practice track, and a common space that he can be in if he is supervised. There is a mess hall where he will have his meals."

Katsuyuki walked to a cupboard that was about 3 feet wide, about a foot and a half deep. There was an upholstered pad taking up the entire floor of the cupboard. It was about 6 feet tall. Katsuyuki knelt and hooked a finger on the edge of the pad. It came out of a slight recess in the floor. He brushed it off and tested the firmness with his fingers.

"Racing Riders don't sleep lying down. They CAN, but they are more comfortable standing. This is a sleeping cupboard. You will be responsible for making sure it is kept clean and neat. The pad will need to be changed AT LEAST once a week. They tend to start smelling. You will need to make sure there is no grit or dirt on or under the pad." He pointed at Maverick, "Have you ever stood on gravel in your bare feet?"

"Yes." Maverick answered.

"Was it comfortable?"

"No, it hurt."

"Would you want to do it for several hours and try to relax?"

"No."

"Clean the cupboard every day."

He checked the corners of the recess and replaced the pad, smoothing it neatly.

"Your Rider will have gear. It can be stored in the rest of the cupboards. Leathers and racing gear in the closet," He pointed out another tall cupboard with a hanger rod, "You will need to train your Riders to put their dirty laundry in the hamper." There was a hamper bin in one of the cupboards. "The floor is to be kept clear of gear that is not in use. This includes shoes and coats. The first time one of the handlers does an inspection and there are shoes on the floor that are not on someone's feet, you will be fined. The fines will increase in severity twice. If there is a third infraction, you will have a suspension of privileges. We take this one seriously, guys. Keep the floor clear."

"You'll have noticed there is not much space in the head. About enough for his toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo and conditioner. The rest of his toiletries will need to be kept in one of the cupboards..."

"How much more does he need? It's not like HE'S the one giving interviews." Brad joked.

Katsuyuki looked at him, sharply, "I don't KNOW, Brad. Dental floss, maybe? Moisturizer, chapstick, washrags, medication, shaving kit, glasses case. How about a hair brush? Nail clippers? Would YOU be just fine with toothpaste and shampoo if you didn't have to give interviews? They still have NEEDS, boys, and a lot of them are needs they can't see to themselves."

He sighed and set a hand on one of the shelves with a built in lock. "You WILL need a shaving kit. Even if you plan to wear facial hair, he will need to be trimmed, clipped and maintained. His toiletries will be kept neatly in a travel case. Any items with blades or items that have been determined to be potentially dangerous will be kept in the locked cabinet unless you are actively using them. If you fail to follow THIS rule, there will heavy fines and you will proceed directly to a race suspension."

Maverick and Juanfran exchanged glances. They both looked at Maria.

"The WMC is a small stable. We don't have space for matches to stay independently of their Riders. When you are staying here at the stable, you will be staying with your Rider in his stall." Katsuyuki pointed at one of the cupboards. "We have folding cots that will fit in that cupboard. You will strip and fold your cot every morning and keep the linens in the cupboard."

"You can't lock us in here!" Juanfran exclaimed.

Katsuyuki made an annoyed face. "If we need to lock your Rider in with you here, something is very wrong. If you can't keep your Rider in his bedroom during the night, how can you be trusted with him on a racetrack?"

"Isn't something very wrong if you need to lock them in here anyway?" Brad said in a low voice. "If they need glasses cases and dental floss, just how human ARE these non-humans?"

Maverick expected Katsuyuki to stare Brad down again. He was surprised.

He smiled. "They are VERY human."

Brad was set back. They all were.

"They are not human, though." He went to the door, he tapped the lock. "Your Rider will be very pliant for you, but do not forget, in addition to feeding and caring for them, they will need to be trained. What is lesson two?" He held up his forefinger.

"Racing Riders need to ride every day," They all answered. They were learning.

"Like dogs that need to be exercised, your Rider will need to ride. Every single day. The amount of time will vary. It will depend on how much energy he has to burn, and the quality of the ride. Racing Riders on teams, as yours will be, will need longer daily sessions outside of race weekends, to make up for having to ride smaller machines. Riders are extremely emotional creatures. They use riding to burn that off." He closed the door and they saw the back.

It was covered in scratches. They had been painted over, but they were still clearly visible.

"You want us to stay in here with something that does THAT?" Jack asked.

"Racing Riders need to ride every day," Katsuyuki said. "Like dogs that need to be trained not to eat the neighbors toddlers, your Rider will need to be trained. They get aggressive when they are not able to ride. They will NEVER turn this aggression against you. Stallions, will, however, fight. They will kill weaker stallions. In extreme cases, when there is no one to fight, they commonly become so agitated that they give themselves strokes."

They took this in, and Maverick saw the sadness in Katsuyuki's face. He remembered the look Kevin had given him when he warned him against telling. They were entering a world where these rules existed because when things were done differently, FIA sued people for 20 million euros, and boys who looked just like normal boys died because they couldn't ride motorcycles.

"The World Motorcycle Center is on the forefront of prevention of inter-stallion aggression. Since it's founding in 1995, there has been NO incidents of death of a Racer due to aggression by another Racer. This is possible because we know about this inclination and act to prevent it. This record will continue."

They listened, silently.

"What is lesson two?" Katsuyuki asked, raising his hand in the now familiar gesture.

"Racing Riders have to ride every day."

"It will not turn fatal immediately, but they will suffer. They may not even complain. In fact, they are unlikely to complain. Racing Riders rarely question their match's decisions. If your Rider has come to the point where he is complaining about you, be aware you have fucked up big time, and probably have been for awhile. They are more patient than we deserve, and almost universally this is to their detriment."

Maverick noticed he'd said we. His Racing Rider was more patient than Katsuyuki deserved? To his own detriment? What would make him say that?

"It is up to YOU to meet their needs. It is not up to them to meet yours, because they can't. You are the responsible one. You are the man, they rely on you. There is no where else they can go. They have no recourse. If you are cruel or neglect them, be aware, you are hurting someone who is completely in your power. Men's worthiness is determined by how they treat those in their power."

Juanfran was nodding at this.

Maverick raised his hand.

"Maverick?" Katsuyuki called on him.

"Whose Rider lived in this stall when the scratches were made?"

Katsuyuki's face flickered with anger and pain for a moment. "Mine."

"Did he..."

"He's fine," Katsuyuki cut off the question. "He didn't deserve to go through that, though."

"Why aren't there any things in the room anymore, then?"

Katsuyuki nodded. "The World Motorcycle Center is a new stable. We are still growing. Sora moved into the new residential building."

Jack caught Maverick's eye. Sora, he mouthed.

"This wing is empty until the next set of stallions is matched."

The next set of stallions.

Their stallions.


	3. The View From The Nest: What Will Be Expected Of You

**The View From The Nest: What Will Be Expected Of You**

  
They ate in the classroom. Two meals a day provided by the mess hall, into which they were not allowed to go. The whole west side of the stable was off limits. They saw guys they recognised from a distance, and they practiced on the track alone, when it was shut down just for them.

Once two guys in helmets had come out to the edge of the track, talked and gestured at Katsuyuki for awhile and then turned around and walked back inside. Other than that, they hadn't seen any of the mysterious 'other species' they were meant for.

Maverick was sitting at the front row desk, waiting for Katsuyuki to start the lesson. Each of their names was written across the top of the board.

"You will learn about what it will be like working with your Racing Rider, as much as we can teach you about gesturing, working with your team and what will be expected of you in your capacity as a matched handler. Today we will start working on what it will take to actually match with your Racing Rider."

Katsuyuki crossed his arms and leaned against his desk. All eyes were on him. He held up his thumb.

"Don't break eye contact."

"Today we're going to talk about lesson one."

Everyone was leaned forward, totally focused on Katsuyuki.

"Look at this and don't take your eyes off," He held his thumb over his head.

They all tracked it as he waved his hand crazily. The door slammed open, and men came in, yelling. Maverick jumped and turned to look. Everyone turned to look, except, behind him, Dakota was still tracking Katsuyuki's hand.

The three guys who'd come in lined up along the back wall.

Maverick turned back to Katsuyuki guiltily.

"Everyone but Dakota broke eye contact," He said.

"Every one of your careers would be over right now. Except Dakota." He held out the marker pen. "Come up here and make a hash mark under your name. Be neat, there are going to be a lot more of them."

As Maverick ticked his name, he resolved himself that it would be the last time.

They went and sat back down. Katsuyuki executed the test again. Every few moments one of the guys in the back of the room would make a loud noise. When most of the group could endure this without losing eye contact, they started moving around the room flashing flashlights in everyone's eyes.

Dakota was unwavering. Everyone else made progress and had setbacks until they could keep their eyes on Katsuyuki's hand, no matter how it moved of the flashing or the noises.

Then, eyes locked on with his usual laser stare, Dakota yelped. There was a ping as something metal hit the linoleum. He flinched and put his hand on the back of his neck.

Everyone looked. There was silence.

There was a BB on the floor beneath his chair and a red mark on the back of his neck. They all looked at the back of the room. One of the guys had a flashlight in his hand and a peashooter to his mouth.

Maverick whipped back around and braced himself and watched Katsuyuki, who was now smirking.

The rest of the class turned forward. Practice didn't start again.

"Dakota, are you forgetting something?"

"Katsuyuki?" He asked.

"Tick your name, Dakota."

They all watched Dakota stand, and in the empty space where the rest of them had several dozen tics, Dakota made his first.

He returned to his seat in the silence.

Katsuyuki started moving his hand again. When the first yelp came, Maverick didn't turn. No one turned.

Yelp after yelp sounded as the distractors methodically flashed their lights and pelted them randomly with BBs.

When the first one hit Maverick, his determination not to flinch did nothing to help. He winced, closing his eyes and losing. He went to the front of the room and made a tic. As he walked, he kept an eye on Katsuyuki.

After a while with no failures, Katsuyuki called a halt. He held his thumb up. The class, covered in welts and mostly experiencing headaches from the flashing and noises, responded a little listlessly.

"Don't break eye contact."

Katsuyuki dismissed them.

Maverick was determined, HE wasn't going to be breaking eye contact. He would train himself to never lose sight of what he was looking at. He looked at Dakota. Maybe they could partner up.


	4. The Bird Birds: Learning By Example

**The Big Birds: Learning By Example**

  
Learning to talk to their Riders meant language class. There was homework, and there was vocabulary practice and quizzes. Maverick and Jack were quizzing each other one day in the lunchroom. Since the first day, they hadn't been in the official "stable". They'd been in a different classroom in the main office building at the front of the complex. Where the public was allowed.

The motocross riders were coaching each other on not breaking eye contact.

Juanfran and Maria walked in. "You'll never guess who we just met out in the hallway." Juanfran said casually, although Maverick's new attention to body language noted he was shifting his feet and his hands were clenching and unclenching like he was excited.

"Brad?" Jack asked, feigning obliviousness.

"Well only if Brad has suddenly gained 9 world championships and turned Italian and shaved his head."

"Did he?" Jack asked.

"No, it is Valentino Rossi!" Juanfran threw up his hands.

"Cool, I'm going to get his autograph."

Maria put her hand on his arm. "I thought of that already."

"We cannot ask for his autograph, he is our co-worker, here, not a famous star." Juanfran said.

"Yeah, really," Brad came in, "Can you imagine Casey Stoner going up to him "Oh, Vale, you're so cool! Will you sign my Tshirt?"" He made a high pitched voiced.

"He did not." Said a new voice, "But when Casey arrived there was only one world championship." They all turned and looked at the man whose Rider had won races more than anyone alive.

Valentino was tall and handsome, with tan skin, blue eyes and normally pale brown, curly hair shaved close to his head. "And it is not my autograph that has any meaning. Ahh, yes, I am the best handler of a Racing Rider, is not a thing to brag to your friends about, even if you can tell."

"Stop standing in the doorway, being dramatic, Vale," said another voice. A shorter, red haired man with freckles pushed into the room. He was built stockier, a motocross rider.

Growing up riding, it didn't matter if you rode street bikes or not, everyone knew the best rider in the world was Ricky Carmichael. He gave them a little wave and got two Tupperware containers of soup out of the fridge. He handed one to Vale, and they turned for the door. When Vale went out, Ricky hesitated and turned back.

"In a few years, you guys will be the big names on the grids. When the new kids in the stable ask for your autograph, and it will happen. Just think about who it was that spent those years climbing on that machine. The rest of the world can't know, but here, credit where credit's due. It's not us who are amazing." He shrugged and went out.

That afternoon, Maria raised her hand.

Katsuyuki called on her.

"We met Ricky and Valentino today. Ricky said in a few years we'd be the big names on the grid, and Valentino said Casey Stoner was here in, what did we decide, Jack?"

"2000."

"2000, and we're all here right when we're 15, so how do you find out who needs to come here? At first we thought you were just picking the best riders, but, then, how old are our Racing Riders?"

"Your Riders are all within a few years of your ages. We've been watching your careers for a while. We encourage sponsors to work with humans who could become matches, and those who will match to especially talented Racing Riders get more encouragement and opportunities as the years go by.

They all looked at Maverick.

"I got sponsors because they weren't sponsoring me, they were buying shares in some future prospect?" He realised with a shock that if the WMC could get companies to sponsor him, they could have gotten a lot of the problems caused for his rivals this year. "Miguel is a way better rider than I am, why didn't you hire him?"

"There is no Racing Rider for Miguel," Katsuyuki waved away the possibility that someone might succeed without one.

"Why not just hire him?"

"The World Motorcycle Center doesn't hire riders. We have riders, we hire handlers. We lease the Rider and match pairs to teams, if they want a winning team, they call us. If they want anything they can scrape together, they hire who they can. Humans."

"I thought all motorsports driving and riding was done by Racing Riders? Why not hire some of each?"

Katsuyuki sighed. "Let's put away the vocabulary for now. It is time for a history lesson."


	5. Brave Enough To Fly: Learn Your History

**Brave Enough To Fly: Learning Your History**

  
"The big stables all keep their own records and their own secrets, so what is known is not everything that is known. Our history is small, so we know less. What I know is this- maybe a hundred and fifty years ago, before cars, when the world was still being explored, someone showed up with a group of exotic animals that looked like men, but weren't. Instead of making them dance like bears, they made them drive. Now they can't live without it." Katsuyuki pulled a set of binders off the shelf. He handed one to each of them.

Maverick opened his book.

"Secrets lead to lost history, so all the stables have their own myths and legends. The most common one is that the Racing Drivers were divided into two groups, between Italy and Germany, and some version of Alfa Romeo, or Ferrari and some version of Mercedes has always existed. We know it wasn't that simple. We know there was a stable in France and a stable in America at least as early.

Back then, all there was was Rally Drivers. There were no paved roads, so no one knew grip was a possibility. There has always been a preference among Racing Drivers for grip, though and the surfaces pioneered to facilitate racing were used to improve the public roads.

When this happened, there started to be a clear division in drift drivers and grip drivers. Teams specialised, and after awhile, the two parted ways. The grip drivers, though the newer discipline had the vast majority of the Racing Drivers. They each set up their own methods. Automobile racing has developed completely around them. The tracks and garages are built to facilitate one team members the public cannot see. There are rooms in the back of every garage that function as spare stalls for during work hours and every track has an onsite stable where the Racing Drivers can stay at night. Since the popularisation of motor homes, the big teams usually field a motorhome capable as functioning as a mobile stable facility."

Maverick thought about how Motorhomes weren't as much in evidence at the smaller races, the ones he'd been part of, where the racers were humans. Of course people had caravans and things, and even some elaborate American style Motorhomes, but nothing like the mobile fortresses the big teams used.

"We'll discuss certification of handlers, later, but for now all you need to know is that someone has to be supervising your Rider at all times. Stabling facilities take responsibility for that when you are not able to."

He showed them a picture of an early Motorhome.

"This allowed a shift in how Racing Drivers could be managed. Up until the late 60's and early 70's it was easy to cover the existence of Racing Drivers. Men and their Drivers never appeared in the same place at the same time, and it was easy to explain "sightings." When personal cameras came into vogue, though, things became more hazardous.

With greater likelihood of discovery, the stables all cracked down on security. There was another massive crackdown in the mid-nineties, when the Internet started to make itself known.

About that time, FIA was beginning to realise that even with increased security, the Motorhomes would make it possible to take Racing Drivers to smaller venues. They started to move into sprint cars, smaller rallies, karting, and then in 1994, the world of Racing Drivers changed dramatically."

"In 1994 an unknown team member of Sky Rallycross, brought his new dirt bike to the track, and while he was showing it to the team, it caught the attention of the team's Racing Driver. He took it out from the owner's hands and made several circuits of the track with it. By the time he'd come back, his match had realized that, though his Racer's projected career in Rallycross had been mediocre at best, his Racer could really do something if given the chance to compete in motorcycle racing. He realized there was an entire kind of Racer that had never been acknowledged before, at a time when FIA was poised to move into any niche, he'd fallen into a goldmine."

The door to the classroom opened, about 10 inches. "Are you doing it, again?" Said a voice from outside. Ricky stuck his head in, ignoring the students, looking at Katsuyuki with a mild expression of amusement.

"It's more dramatic this way."

"It's bad history keeping, this way," Ricky turned his head to the class. "It wasn't an unknown team member, his name is Greg Rand, he rode motocross, and it wasn't a dirt bike, it was an enduro. It was a Yamaha XT350." He looked back at Katsuyuki. "If you're going to tell them, tell them right."

"Casey wants me to tell it this way." Katsuyuki tapped a forefinger on the binder.

"Princess Casey is not in charge," Ricky winked a little at the students.

"No, Princess Ricky is," Katsuyuki mocked.

Ricky laughed. "Yes, now teach my Kingdom’s history right, or the next time you have this conversation, it will be with Princess Vale when I tell him how you Casey has you explaining 2007, you see?"

Katsuyuki put his hands up, "Do you want me to tell them Casey's version of 2007, then?"

Ricky got a HUGE grin on his face and glanced at the students for a fraction of a second. "Oh HELL yes."

"You won't tell Vale about Casey's version of 2007 if I tell your story without embellishment, and I can still tell Casey's version?" Katsuyuki smiled.

Ricky nodded with a wicked grin.

"Whatever you say, stallion."

The door closed, and Ricky could be heard outside, laughing.

The students all stared at Katsuyuki.

"You want to know what happened in 2007?" He asked.

"YES!" They answered.

"Then you will have to pay close attention to what happened in the years leading up to it."

Maverick's hand shot into the air.

"What?"

"He just said you were telling his story. Are you telling me the first guy to realize these motorsports aces could ride motorcycles was Ricky Carmichael, like 15 years ago?" Maverick asked incredulously.

"When Racing Drivers totally dominated car racing, men who were driven to race turned to smaller sports, and for years, Racing Drivers were given trials on motorcycles and none of them could perform to a competitive level, so men dominated motorcycles. As far as we can tell, the Racing Drivers tested on motorcycles were champion drivers, on the assumption that since they were talented, they would bring that talent to whatever vehicle they were given. It wasn't until a motorcycle was given to a Racing Driver who was not interested in cars that it was discovered, like some love grip and some love drift, some love motorcycles."

In fact, it wasn't immediately apparent that there were ANY others who would love motorcycles. Once Ricky had secured his Racer a contract with a team that would risk allowing him to ride motocross, he had his work ahead of him convincing them there might be other Riders out there. He was given permission to take a motorcycle and visit other stables and see if he could draw out other Racers with an interest in motorcycles. He went to stable after stable," Katsuyuki made an unhappy face and sighed, "He went to three stables. At the third, he found another Racing Driver who was not only interested in the motorcycle, he was as natural at riding as Ricky's own Racer. Honda, the only stable that had been willing to risk an investment in Ricky's crazy Racing Rider program, bought the other Rider. They brought the two of them back, and in 1994, only one other Rider was found."

Jack had been doing math again. "The other Rider he found was Valentino, wasn't it?"

Katsuyuki looked impressed. "Yes, it was Valentino's _Rider_."

"Who was the other one?" Maria asked.

"He's a motocross Rider, who races under the name Kevin Windham."

Maverick's head shot up. Kevin.

"The existence of the three of them proved that there were more to be found. The three of them took turns going to the stables, finding more Riders. They refined their techniques, and soon there were quite a few of us living in a cordoned off section of the Honda stable. We only had a handful of wins between us, most of those were R...Ricky and Valentino's Riders. We were all just dumb kids who gave up any hope of our partners driving, to be part of something new.

  
None of us had enough money to live on, so when we weren't racing, we lived with our parents, or in the stable. You know those guys at races who are on the ragged edge? Who are giving up everything for a chance to make it to the next race? That was us, it just didn't look like it. Honda was bankrolling us. They were keeping track of every penny and expecting it to come rolling back to them when the wins came in."

He smiled, looking to the side, like he was remembering something. "There was a time I thought Ivan Tedesco was a superhero because he could shoplift entire packages of hamburger in his coat sleeves. We ate a lot of boxed dinners with meat instead of just noodles and sauce because of Ivan."

"Some of us had been matched at the Driver's stables. We all expected to be in WRC or Indycar or F1 someday. We learned to attract sponsors, deal with the media, and negotiate with teams. After awhile, though, because the recruiting parties weren't just finding matched Riders, they were finding youngsters, too, we started doing our own matching, and those guys didn't have the benefit of a Ford media coach and Ferrari image consultants and Williams etiquette lessons. They had those of us who'd had the benefit of a big stable's resources for a year or two before we came home to motorcycling. Teams cover some of that, but a lot of it is the stable's responsibility to teach. If you're not presentable, it's hard for the stable to find a team or sponsors who want you."

"There were wins coming, though. It only took one or two championships to prove we were going to dominate the humans as heavily on bikes as we had in cars. The sponsors and the teams could smell the winds changing. They started clamoring for Riders, and soon there was more demand than we had adult Riders to fill the positions, and then the money came. We paid back Honda, and the World Motorcycle Center bought itself, resources, equipment and contracts, in 2003, and moved into our own facility. For the next 5 years, we remained under Honda's 'sponsorship.' Then in 2008 we expanded our facilities to include an annex in the Americas. Over the last 15 years, Riders have moved into every aspect of motorcycle racing. There are still humans on the grids, but, for example, in MotoGP the last human to win a Premier class championship was Kenny Roberts Jr. That was Rasoio's Rookie season."

The name caught all their attention. Maverick could see the students all shift and sit up straighter. This was only the second time they'd heard a Rider mentioned by name. Rasoio. Like Rossi? It sounded a lot like the Spanish word for razor. Katsuyuki's was named Sora. Jack and Maverick had looked that up after they'd heard it, it was the Japanese word for sky.

Brad was picking up on something different, though. "So, all these guys like us who want to race, can't because no one will hire them because they all want Racing Riders? That's shit, man. Why couldn't they just leave motorcycles to humans? If humans don't get to drive any of the cars, they should at least get to ride the bikes. What's up?"

"I am not in the habit of lying about things like this. Do you want the practical answer or do you want the truth?"

"Both!" Brad retorted.

"The practical answer is that humans can't keep up. Racing Riders are not only naturally stronger and faster, they train their whole lives in a way humans cannot afford to, because humans must have responsibilities, go to school, have a job, pay the bills, not just spend their whole lives training. The truth is that a population of athletes who are spending their whole lives training need someone to pay the bills. They need to be fed, they need to be clothed, someone must buy the plane tickets, someone must repair the motorcycles. The stables want the money. Human riders take their money and go home. Racing Riders' winnings go to the stable. A little goes to the man, of course, but mostly his things, his lifestyle are paid for by the stable, to keep up appearances. It is a business. It is for making money."

Brad sat back and crossed his arms. "At least you're honest."

Maria had spotted something else the rest of them hadn't. "So why did Ricky have to start a new stable, why didn't he just get Honda to keep paying for his Rider and get a contract with the motocross team?"

Katsuyuki pointed at her. "You have asked an interesting question. The true AND practical answer to that is...corruption."

Maverick noticed Katsuyuki had neatly steered them away from the subject of what had happened in 2007 without so much as a mention of what it was that had actually happened. Well, maybe a little extra curricular research was in order. Jack and Maria were both clearly interested in the history of what was going on, here. He would ask them what they knew. And he would listen very closely to what Shinya thought was going on at Honda that was so corrupt he'd rather eat dry noodles than work for them.


	6. Wind From Unexpected Directions: You Can't Prepare For Every Test

**Wind From Unexpected Directions: You Can't Prepare For Every Test**

  
"Alright, guys, your media assessments are back." Katsuyuki handed out file folders to everyone. They all craned to see the quiet motocross kid's file when he got his first, each student going quiet as their own file arrived. Partway through he raised his thumb and forefinger.

"Don't break eye contact," They all recited, automatically. "Racing Riders need to ride every day," They went on.

He carried on handing out files as though nothing had happened.

"This says the lady who consulted on my media wants me to act sweet and nervous." Juanfran looked up. "Why? Aren't I supposed to come across as confident and represent the sponsor?"

"Mine says I'm not supposed to worry about swearing or making blunt comments," Jack said. "It says I should be forthright and brash. That's kind of annoying."

"Media relations isn't all about being a perfect representative. It's about a persona. The person the public will think you are. You've all seen the stunts Valentino and his fanclub pull. That's the loud, brash Italian the public wants him to be. Casey, well he hates media, but the public like that's he's in depth with his explanations, they like his technical side."

Katsuyuki opened his hands to Juanfran, "There's a whole bunch of reasons your media consultant would suggest that, but the big one is, we've got to play to our strengths. Media is tiring and a lot of it is answering the same boring questions. If answering the same question 20 times in 10 minutes in a way that is sweet and nervous keeps you appealing through all of them, go with it. It's actually going to be harder for Jack."

They looked at Jack.

"Honesty is hard to keep fresh. It turns to irritation and ranting very easily. You will have to practice to walk the line."

Maverick reread the first lines of his file. "The ideal media presence for Maverick is calm and knowledgeable. It is recommended that he study elocution and vocabulary. His accent should be maintained, not discarded. A fashion forward, professional/collegiate look, with a light mix of young, hip elements would highlight the intelligent, thoughtful presence we would like to pursue for Maverick. His social media will be highly focused on his career, with a low rate of personal information, but the intermittent personal posts will show his fun side, to remind the public that while he IS to be taken seriously, he is not impersonal."

"What does 'friendly, but with a boiling intensity' mean?" Maria asked? She was reading Brad's file over his shoulder.

"It means they wish he'd be friendly, but they don't expect him to win any awards for acting," Said one of the motocross kids. They had mostly kept to themselves so far. This one's name was Dakota. "One of my brothers got that in his media consult when he matched. He's not a media darling."

Katsuyuki nodded in agreement. "Yes, Brad, they want you to be nice, but show you are a challenger on the track. Any other questions?"

They produced a variety of shrugs, mutters and unintelligible answers in gestures.

"You'll be seeing your media consultants again next week for followups. Wardrobe acquisition and styling. For today, we have some special visitors."

All the folders closed. Everyone was straining their senses to see what Shinya would say next.

"Today for the first time, you're going to meet some Racing Riders."

"We get to meet our Riders today?!"

"No, SOME Riders, you won't be meeting yours for a bit longer. Now, when they come in, I don't want you to be surprised. They'll all be in their gear and wearing their helmets. They can't bond with you, even if you were to make eye contact, but Racers are extremely particular about when they have their faces showing. So, these will keep their helmets on while they're with us. Feel free to interact with them, practice your gestures. They've had it explained that you are new to gesturing and if you say something incorrectly, they are not going to get offended."

Maverick noticed a couple of the other students limbering up their hands like they were going to be playing the piano.

"You've had it explained that Riders are more tolerant of human touch than other types of Racing Drivers. Regardless of this, please refrain from touching these Riders. Since you aren't fully conversant in gestures, you may miss their signals that they are uncomfortable, so we will just avoid any incidents by keeping our hands to ourselves. Does anyone have any questions?"

They all shook their heads. Katsuyuki went to the door and opened it.

The 10 Racing Riders that came in were wearing racing overalls in various colors. Most of them were wearing two or three colors, but a few were wearing a solid color. They all had very professional bearings as they lined up against one wall, a line of mirrored visors watching the students. They each moved like they were totally in control of themselves, and Maverick, who since he'd had his last growth spurt felt like he was crashing into everything and unmanageably clumsy, had no doubts whatsoever that these Riders were entirely competent to ride an entire race certain of good results.

Even though they could have been no more than 6 years old.

[Good morning,] Katsuyuki gestured to the foals.

[Good morning,] They gestured back, not in unison, but with greater cohesion than the students had in answering any of his questions besides the lessons one and two question.

[These are my students, they are going to match with their Racing Riders, can you show them how nice Racing Riders are to know?]

There was a noise from one of them, it was a giggle, but it was...not a giggle. It sounded like a few uneven strokes of a lawnmower engine. If the dirtbike was not made of metal, and if it found you quite amusing. It was a giggle, it was obviously a giggle, the little Racing Rider put his gloved hands over his faceplate and shimmied like he was trying to hide the fact that he'd giggled.

The professionalism from the line of foals dissolved in an instant. Maverick watched some of them try to answer the question Katsuyuki had asked, but he wasn't watching, because the little Rider on the end of the line had stepped forward and was tugging his sleeve. Most of them just turned to the Riders beside them and began to talk.

Maverick watched the one addressing Katsuyuki say, [Stallion, I have to go to the restroom,] he crossed his legs and swung back and forth to highlight the urgency of this situation. After what happened, next, Maverick never thought of Racing Riders as 'not people' ever again.

[Why didn't you go before you left the stable?] Katsuyuki asked.

Maverick could practically gesture the answer along with the foal.

[I didn't have to go, then.]

He burst out laughing.

Katsuyuki looked up at him in surprise.

"I can take him to the restroom. I have little cousins, I won't let him get away."

"No," Katsuyuki immediately shook his head.

"If you're going to trust me with mine on a racetrack, you should be able to trust me with this one in a hallway."

After a moment of reconsideration, Katsuyuki nodded. "Alright. There and back, be VERY careful."

[Come on, I'll take you to the restroom,] Maverick gestured at the little Racing Rider. It was wearing black and red leathers and a black helmet with a red stripe around the middle.

The Rider reached out and took his hand in a tiny red and black glove. The grip was incredibly strong.

Katsuyuki shrugged defeat.

"Maverick," Katsuyuki lowered his voice as Maverick led his charge out the door.

He looked back at him, waiting to be reminded that he was responsible for valuable property.

"Take her to the girls' room, please."

He looked down at his little charge, who looked up at him through a black visor. "Oh. Uh, sure. The girls' room."


	7. Stretching Your Wings: Extracurricular Activities

**Stretching Your Wings: Extracurricular Activity**

  
The students all had to reach a new level of fitness for the beginning of the next stage of their careers. The only one who seemed to be undaunted by the increased difficulty of the riding was Dakota. He was almost in shape enough on arrival. He had to lose a few pounds, but other than that, his standard workout seemed to meet the stable's expectations.

Maverick was working harder than he ever had. He finished his pushups and dropped to the ground, breathing deeply. "Why," He asked Maria, who had finished her pushups just ahead of him, "Is Dakota so far ahead of us on all this stuff? Mr Star Pupil. He's not even such a great rider."

"You know how he keeps talking about his brothers? They're matched."

"Really? Hey Dakota!" Maverick called.

Dakota looked over from where he was doing pullups. "Yeah?" He asked, not even breathless.

"Your brothers are matched, how did that happen?"

The motocross rider tilted his head, as if he was shrugging, "When the Riders' stable annex opened in the US, they were recruiting out of all the big American stables. You know how MANY cars there are in NASCAR. They found a whole group of Riders who were all from the same sire. The sire was my dad's Racing Driver. He got matched when he was young, but his Racer's career never went anywhere. Then when they figured out all his foals were Riders, they tested him and it turned out he was a Rider the whole time. Anyway, all those colts looked like me and my brothers. So every couple years one of us gets old enough to get matched. This year, it's me. I've had Double Oh status since I was 8." He hadn't stopped doing pullups.

"What's Double Oh status?" Juanfran called from the leg press machine.

"It's unmatched people who are authorized to know about Racers. Team members and stuff. I've been around Racers since my older brother got matched. My dad realized if we were all getting matched, we may as well get used to being around them. He was already a Trainer, because when Trench didn't get a drive, they decided to learn to work with other Racing Drivers. Trainers can have Racers outside of a stable. Our house is it's own little stable, with all the precautions and security."

"They live at your house?" Jack asked.

"Yeah. The Racers are like extra brothers."

"They're all your dad's Racer's kids?"

Dakota shrugged again. "I guess. We're not allowed to talk about that."

Maverick wondered why.

"Is their mother there, too? Do they have their own little family?" Maria asked.

"I don't KNOW," Dakota said. "I don't want to talk about it." He frowned. "They live with US now, and that's enough, and now MINE is coming home, and that's all that matters, not what happened to him before."

The gymnasium got quiet.

There was the quiet thump of the guys' feet on the treadmills.

No one really said anything else, and Maverick finished his workout, showered and went for a walk. What happened to Dakota's Rider, before he would go to live with Dakota's family. What? Living in the stable? Racers usually lived in the stables. The stable owned them, like race horses. Race horses didn't go home with their jockeys. He thought about the little girl...filly...he'd met when they met the foals that day. When she was old enough to match, she wouldn't want to go live with her match, she'd want to stay in the stable with her family.

Dakota's Rider's family lived at his house, except the ones that were too young to match. Dakota had at least one little brother. They were away from their family. That was a weird situation, though.

He sat down on a bench. The compound seemed unusually busy. He'd seen lots of matches coming and going who weren't usually around. The guys who were on teams. They stuck around the stable building. There wasn't really any reason for them to come to the public office buildings, unless, like Valentino and Ricky, the World Motorcycle Center's founders, they had meetings with the public.

So Maverick was surprised when someone he recognized approached. The slim, older MotoGP rider sat down, giving him a little chin jut to acknowledge he'd seen Maverick. He relaxed back against the back of the bench, smiling into the sunlight. He opened his eyes and looked over.

"You're in the new class, right? Matching this year?" His American, Texan accent was soft, sounding almost Hollywood. He hadn't been given a file saying he should 'maintain accent' obviously.

"Maverick Vinales." Maverick shook the man's hand.

"Colin Edwards. Congratulations."

"Uh, thanks. Hey, you've been around a long time,"

"Uh, thanks," Colin grinnned.

"I mean, you must know a lot. The Riders like staying at the stables, right? They want to be here? They're with their families."

The guy got a strange expression on his face. "What are you asking, Mav?"

"Trainers can take their Racers home with them. Isn't that mean, to take them away from their wives and children? Or can they take them, too?"

He was looking wooden, now. He squinched his eyes and looked up in thought. "Ok, first, not all Trainers take their Racers home. That's rare, only if the Trainer can prove their house is as secure as a stable. Most Trainers live in apartments or in cities, and there's no way. Or they're married and they can't even tell their wives they HAVE a Racer, let alone bring him home."

Well that made sense. It must be hard to lie to the person you were married to all the time, though. Maverick had managed to avoid talking about it to his family, when he called home, but he hadn't even met his yet.

"The thing about the stables is, well, Racers don't have families like we have families. There aren't 3 bedroom stalls. The foals live in dorms, but the stallions and mares live in stalls." He waved a hand toward the stable buildings. "This is more like the army than an apartment complex." Colin said, levelly.

That was when an aspect of learning to read body language, that Maverick had been told about but hadn't experienced, manifested. He could SEE Colin was lying. The set of his shoulders, his jaw, how he was sitting, his eyes. He KNEW it. He could, see, too that Colin knew he could see and didn't care.

It wasn't like the army at all.

Why was Colin lying to him?

In the army, the soldiers lived in dorms and private houses on the base. Their children didn't live in dorms, too, though. They lived in houses with their families. What Colin had described sounded a lot more like a dog kennel. Where the adults were in their own cages and the puppies were in cages as a group.

"So where do the foals come from, if the mares and stallions are in separate stalls?"

Colin turned and looked across the lawn. Valentino Rossi and Marco Simoncelli were waving at him. He looked back at Maverick. "There are other rooms in a stable. Look," He lowered his voice and all the meaning went out of his body language. "They try not to be too clear with you guys about what happens, but since you're thinking about it, you're obviously going to find out. I'm not supposed to be telling you matches anything, I'm handler certified, but that's it, and Rase would be pissed if he knew I told you."

He took a breath, putting on happy body language, even though his voice was serious, "The contract includes breeding rights on your Rider. Not fun to think about. Not all of them mind it, but if your guy does, you can ask Valentino about alternatives, okay?" He pushed himself off the bench. "My friends are waiting for me." He looked at Maverick with narrow eyes. "You're smart. Just remember, don't ask questions if you're not willing to deal with the answers."

He gave a little wave and jogged over to the other two guys. Seamlessly, he slid an arm around Valentino's shoulders and put a hand on Marco's back. Maverick heard a mechanical laugh, much deeper than the giggle produced by the foals. Like a rumbling 1000cc engine. Not Marco and Valentino, then.

_Rase would be pissed if he knew I told you._

He silenced his body language so a Rider couldn't tell what he was saying.

Rasoio?


	8. The Drop: The Price, The Risk, The Reward

**The Drop: The Price, The Risk, The Reward**

  
"When you go to be matched, you will wait in the corridor outside the room where your Racing Rider is waiting. When you go in, he will be there, helmet on, waiting for you. The handlers will be restraining him, but he WILL be resisting them. You will need to take his helmet off and hold eye contact with him. He will be struggling against the handlers, and he may lash out, or flail. You cannot be deterred by distractions or pain. Here's the part we haven't told you, yet. If you break eye contact, your Rider WILL kill you. The handlers won't be able to stop him."

There were yells and protests.

"You said FIA would just sue us. How can they sue us if we're dead?!"

"They sue your family, and if you've got any brothers or cousins they can POSSIBLY make a Rider look like, they'll take him, too," Dakota growled. "And his kids, and theirs, until the debt is paid off."

"Yes. They will," Katsuyuki agreed.

Maverick looked at Dakota, with his father and 4 brothers all with Riders. Paying off a debt? How many guys did it take before a 10 million euro debt was paid off? Had it been his dad's brother? A cousin? Who was Dakota paying the price for?

Dakota now had nearly as many tick marks next to his name as everyone else. He wasn't dealing well with being pelted by peashooters.

"To prevent any injury to anyone, we've prepared you as well as you can possibly be prepared for what you will be up against. If we determine you aren't prepared for matching, you won't be sent to match. You will be given more time to prepare. This is a limited reprieve, though, you won't be given infinite opportunities. " Katsuyuki told them. "You have fallen off your bikes and gotten back up. We're not going to sacrifice you, this less of a risk than every one of you takes when you get on a bike. In fact, our assessments show every one of you is fully capable of passing this test with flying colors. We, your teachers, your coaches, your managers, are all confident that you will be up to it."

The subdued students rose from their seats and made their way out of the classroom. Maverick clenched his fists. Bastards had them trapped. They were already signed into these contracts, and the more they found out, the more terrible information was sprung on them.

"It's worth it," He heard Dakota saying, as if he was reminding himself.

He looked over.

Dakota looked up. "It's worth it, guys. My brothers would give their lives for their Riders. They're so...good. Nice and honorable and kind and they're going to be closer to us than the best human friends we could ever have. Worth it. They don't want to hurt us. They won't hurt us, and all we have to do is look at them. Look at the best friend we'll ever have. No matter what happens." He let this sentence trail off and turned and walked away with big strides.


	9. Leaving The Nest: It Takes Two Wings To Fly

**Leaving The Nest: It Takes Two Wings To Fly**

  
It was winter, all the team pairs were out on winter testing, and the business of the stable had died down like a college campus during Christmas break. Maverick was sitting on his bench doing vocabulary of gestures- why did they all seem so similar? When his phone beeped.

Please meet me in the front of the main stable.

-Katsuyuki

He picked up his homework and walked to the warehouse sized building on the back of the property. There was a front door that he'd never seen anyone use. Katsuyuki was standing in front of it.

"Here," Katsuyuki held his hands out, "I'll take your homework back to the room. Come on." They went into the building and rode down on an elevator.

Was Maverick late for a class? He hadn't known about it, if he was.

Katsuyuki walked him down a hallway with doors on either side. He stopped in front of one. "Wait for the knock."

The knock?!

This was IT? They were matching him with his Rider? He wasn't prepared. He hadn't even showered.

Katsuyuki was walking away the way they'd come. "Don't worry, Maverick, you are totally prepared." He called back without turning around. "I'll see you when you're done with your paperwork." He stepped into the elevator. He was still holding Maverick's homework.

"Remember Lesson One."

Maverick stood in the hallway. There was no knock immediately. He leaned against the wall. Then he stood and walked to the other wall.

A brisk knocking came from the door on his left. Maverick opened the door. There were two guys standing next to his Racing Rider. His partner was pulling desperately on their grip on his arms. He ducked and spun his body, trying to twist his arms free, but just succeeded in getting his arms in a tangle over his head.

They untwisted him and he saw Maverick for the first time. He slammed forward to the limit of the reach of the men's arms, like a dog at the end of a chain. He was making desperate, angry noises.

Maverick reached for his helmet. He pulled away shortly before Maverick's hands touched him. He shied away. Then he lashed out, swinging his helmet forward into Maverick's face.

Pendejo! Maverick's nose cracked. Before his partner could pull away and give him another shot, Maverick grabbed his helmet in both hands. He hooked his fingers under the chin of it and pulled him forward. The handlers held him back. He pulled again and the handlers let go. He put one arm around his partner, pinning his arms down.

His partner was a couple centimeters shorter, but he was irrepressible, he thrashed and tried to head butt him again. Maverick controlled his head and waited until a pause. "You can hurt me, but I am NOT going to hurt you back. Ready?" He pulled his helmet off.

The kid was older than the videos. His eyes were wide. His lips drawn back over his teeth in a wide grimace. Maverick looked into his eyes. "Stop, just stop." He told his partner, gesturing the word against his back. "You're mine. You're mine, now. It's okay."

The struggling stopped. His partner dropped his head onto Maverick's shoulder. He nodded against him.

Maverick petted his hair. "Yeah, brother, it's alright. You're with me, now. I've got your back."

The handlers were standing back, now. Watching. "Alright, let's get your paperwork filled out."

He opened the door and they went out into the hallway, then down into a room on the left. Maverick's partner had a double grip on his arm and his head laid on Maverick's shoulder, as though he was declaring, "This one is mine." There was a desk and Kevin was standing there, grinning at him.

[Got a good one, brother?] He gestured at Maverick's partner. The little one nodded with a satisfied smile. Maverick felt a deep, smugness of his own.

"Come here, Maverick. You've got to sign for him." He pushed a file across the desk. He put a hand on Maverick's shoulder.

There was a tag on the file that read In Receipt of Property. Maverick signed the spot, but murmured to his new friend, "You're not property. You're enough of a boar to stand on your own." He was overwhelmed with affection, and kissed the top of his little boar's head, like he was a child.

"What's his name, Mav?" Kevin asked, turning the file to the front page where the Name line was blank. "He's yours to name."

"He's mine."

"Mavs, then?" Kevin chuckled.

He wrote the word Verraco in the blank space. Boar. "I don't know how to say that in gestures."

Kevin looked at the little Rider. [Verraco.] He showed Maverick the gesture a couple times. Maverick got the feeling he was showing him a name that he'd already had. [Are you happy to be Maverick's, Verraco?]

[He is happy to be mine, and I and happy to be his,] Verraco told Kevin.

[I am very happy, I didn't know you were going to be so...] He didn't know a gesture, or even a word. He was so impressed by his partner, even though he hadn't had any time with him, yet. The pure tenacity and energy he'd shown in resisting the handlers. Verraco was going to be so good to have on his side. That was where he belonged. Maverick felt as sure of that as if he'd known all his life that he was waiting for Verraco to stand next to him. They were going to be the best team, ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Real People don't belong to me.
> 
> This story is fiction and is no reflection on anyone in it. The story does belong to me, as does the AU in which it is set.
> 
> Please comment, I like comments.


End file.
